


Young & Tragic

by Taraxippi



Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), Mystery Skulls (Band)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Multi, OC antagonists - Freeform, hAHA i have no idea what i'm doing, why do i update this at midnight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taraxippi/pseuds/Taraxippi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wish that we were magic,<br/>so we wouldn't have to be so young and tragic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> in which the dead guy, the not-so dead guy and the not-so dead girl and her dog go to a haunted factory and try (without much success) to piece together what ha fallen apart.

i. don't go whistling by my grave

If you had Vivi what she expected to come out of the new year, reviving her once dead beau was not on the top of her list. Yet there he was, sitting behind her with ghostly eyes staring straight ahead. Arthur sat next to her eyes out the window, hands clenched into fists but from the corner of her eye she can see them shake. Mystery himself is solemn, but then again, that’s nothing new.

 

Of course, there was the fact her ex-boyfriend (assuming you used that sort of lingo when it came to these situations) was sitting in the backseat with a normal floating skull, her other companion with a locked jaw and refused to speak. Oh yes, things were far from normal which was saying something. They had explored the darkest of caverns, hung out with the worst of spectres and this, this stifling silence was enough to drive her crazy.

 

She broke it with the clearing of her voice. “Things seem to be a little hectic lately. So I thought it would be nice to revisit our roots. There’s a town not too far from our first case. Apparently there’s some things going on in an old factory.”

 

This would be the moment where Arthur would lift his lips and smile. He would joke something similar along the lines of, ‘of course you think going some place haunted would be a nice bonding exercise.” And then Lewis would chuckle, gently punch his arm. But instead, she can see Arthur curl up, forehead moving to rest against the window pane of the car.

 

Vivi finds her fingers curling even harder against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Lewis obliges, voice resonated from his lack of jaw. It’s disconnected, an echo coming from someplace else, an anatomy of spirit fire and bone, one she was unfamiliar with. It was close, so close to when he was alive, but it’s the differences, minor as they are that remind them all that he is indeed a phantom of his former self.

 

“A good idea. What we all need.” He muses and although Vivi can sense his warmth, she wonders if this really was a good idea. But it really isn’t the time to doubt her plan. Instead, she mentally builds herself. This will be good, no, it will be great. They can’t be what they were before but that doesn’t mean they can’t move on.

 

The open road soons become narrower, as the city stretches out before them. The skyscrapers barely touch the horizons but they will have to make do with a city that even with all it’s building, still feels so incredibly rural. By the time they pull in front of the old factory it’s late afternoon and an old man is ringing the sweat out of his tie in nervousness.

 

As Vivi puts the van in park, she pauses to sling her hand over the back-seat. She smiles at Lewis and pushes the bridge of her glasses up from falling. “Just wait here. We won’t be but a moment.”

 

He smiles, tries to. Hard to achieve when you are dead and missing a jaw but he managed. Already Arthur was out the door and closing it with a slam, echoing between their conversation and Vivi huffs in annoyance before following suit.

 

With her dog at her heels, she finds Arthur shaking hands with the nervous man, who seems to be fumbling over every word.

 

“Oh, I’m so glad you are here. Things have gotten out of control and I just- I just c-can’t find a proper solution.” His grip is vise-like as he changes from Arthur’s to Vivi’s hand, shaking it like he was about to rip her arm off.

 

“No problem. Glad to be of assistance. Why don’t you give us a summary of what’s been happening?” She grins watching Arthur subtly (not so subtly) wipe his hand off his jeans.

 

“G-goodness. All sorts of things. The k-kids in this t-town always joke about how this old factory was haunted b-but I certainly never b-believed them. We want to d-demolish this walking d-death trap but every time a construction worker tries to do a safety w-walk through they run out screaming! I did police, detectives and I even saw the damn polt-poltergeists myself! I’ve got an election c-coming up you know. I was about to g-give up when an old f-flyer appeared at my feet. Had your number on it.”

 

He finishes and Vivi gives a soft smile.

 

“Don’t worry. This sort of thing is our specialty. We will have this factory cleared and ready for ya.”

 

He smiles, and grabs her hand and nearly shaking the life out of her. When she managed to release her grip, her hand was redder and sore and he moved on to shake Arthur who wasn't expecting and nearly lost his other arm in the process. She turns back to van and gives the shadowy silhouette a thumbs up. Her attention is cut short by Mystery's bark and they all spin to turn in the direction. For a second she thought she saw green and yellow flames but when she blinks, they are gone and a hollow wind cuts through them all.

 

 


	2. ii. a dying cricket in a jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the dead guy and not so dead boy and girl (and their dog) start the first part of their exploration and try to bond (and fail) and one of many antagonists is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, here we go. it's midnight here so i'm really tired. if you see any mistakes, please say so. also i refer to the dog as Mystery as I've been chatting with others and it's the basic conclusion but honestly, I'm not sure anyone knows??

ii. a dying cricket in a jar

They stood for five minutes in strangled silence because how do they explain to the man that they have a ghost in their van that they need to get out. He waits eagerly for them to enter the factory in what he imagines what a saturday morning cartoon would be. Although Vivi is completely accepting of Lewis’ condition, it will certainly damper on their job.

 

Which meant awkward side-long glances share between both of Arthur, Vivi and Mystery.

 

Arthur distracts the man by demonstrating an elaborate way to ward of ghosts (which is really him just throwing a punch of rocks at the factory wall) until Vivi has managed to safely get Lewis out of the van without anyone noticing before making a spirited entrance into the factory itself.

 

Once inside, the ruin of the factory is so much clearer. It was unclear of what it was used for, work benches abandoned, machines dusted and rusted with age. There was broken glass scattering the bottom of windows. Viv took Mystery into her arms, shoes crunching glass.

 

Lewis could see the differences. How Arthur no longer hung onto shoulders, but had started to use his body as a shield. Vivi who had always walked with purpose also walked with caution. He hung back, slow and feet sometimes dipping through the ground. Little reminders that there was a time in between his departure and his second arrival, a time filled with jokes he wouldn’t know the punch-lines to, of movies he had never seen, of moments he would never comfort again. Little reminders that he was dead and had been dead for awhile.

 

The open floor of the factory is coming to an end as workbenches lead to an open staircase to what could have been a manager’s office. Then not farther is a dark and empty hallway. Arthur takes the steps two at a time, leaving Lewis to watch in silence as the kid who had desperately held onto his shoulder and copied his every step now walked without fear of his shadow.

 

Vivi scowls, placing Mystery on the first step who pauses to scratch behind his ear.

 

“This place hardly seems haunted. It’s rather disappointing.” For extra measure, she folds her arms over her chest and follows Arthur’s lead up the staircase. Lewis hangs back, skeletal hand clenched into the railing as Arthur fiddles with the lock until the door clicks and creaks open. His eyes glances back to Lewis before he takes through the door. Behind him Vivi falters, looking back to Lewis who still remains at the bottom.

 

“I’ll stay here. On the look out.” He replies, the disconnected voice echoing through the walls of the factory. She smiles, exuberant as always before following Arthur through the open door leaving Lewis alone with himself and his thoughts, and the dog who seems sleepy enough.

 

He settles into sitting on the first step along side Mystery, pausing before the pup a nice pat on the head. Mystery, it seemed, was the only one he refused to act differently after his death. The dog leaned into his touch and he chuckled warmly, almost human.

 

Mystery stiffens and Lewis pulls away almost immediately and he can see the dog pull back, showing ivory teeth against black lips. The growl that emanates from his jaws is low and a chuckle echoes and Lewis sees the creature that caused dismay.

 

A skeleton lingers on one of the machinery, dazing on it in a manner similar to a cat. Dressed in a black vest and black pants, he can see broken ribs tie around the stranger’s waist. There is a chip in the skull but there is a strange warmth to them. Where his flames are a cross between pink and violet, the skeleton has eyes that glow like jack o’ lanterns. The flames that flicker across the skeleton’s brow are in a narrow strip, reminding Lewis of a small mohawk.

 

It waves a hand and gives a gentle wave and then laughs when Lewis stands to his feet, fingers curled into fists.

 

“Easy kid. I’m not going to do a thing.” It croaked and it’s soft, much softer than Lewis expected. Where his voice occasionally drops and raises in octaves, as he struggles to remember to speak properly, the phantom in front of him talks as though it’s almost human.

 

“I assume that you are one of the ghosts.” His voice sputters, another reminder that he needs to work on talking and the ghost gives another chuckle, sinking into the machinery while a darker orange smoke rises from the machine. Mystery gives a low bark when the phantom appears on one of the workbenches, cross-legged and eyes sparkling.

 

“You guys looked like a boy scout troop, walking in here. A bunch of kids entering the dark part of the woods thinkin’ a silly flashlight is enough to scare the spooks away.”

 

“Leave us alone.” He croaks, hating his voice cracks from lack of use.

 

The phantom raises a hand and crosses it’s fingers, putting a hand over the heart. “I’m not going to do a thing, Scout’s honor.” Then it laughed again, sinking into the table and disappearing - reminding Lewis of the Cheshire Cat.

-

Above in the manager’s office, Arthur rubs his nose and sneezes in the thick air and coughs when he inhales some dust that lingered on the tables.

 

“Where are the ghosts? The spooks? Anything!” Vivi cries out, slamming her hands on a filing cabinet and another cloud of dust goes flying into the air, making Arthur cough.

 

The filing cabinet itself creaks open, almost as though it’s given it’s last breath to open itself and Vivi turns to look at the pictures scattered on the floor and wall. She crouches down to pick them up as Arthur reaches into the filing cabinet and begins to look through them.

 

In the black and white photographs, she can see an older man and his family. A wife, a younger daughter and what she can assume is an older son. It’s hard to tell for in every photo the faces are scratched out, clawed out. Leaving only the eldest son smiling back at her, the kind of smile that gives her chills.

 

\--

 

“Look I don’t like to repeat myself. You should leave while you still can.”

 

His eyes narrow and Mystery, with hackles raised, glare at the phantom which has moved from hanging upside down in the large factory ceiling to resting near the dark and abandoned hallway.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“They want you, and I’ve been here long enough to know that they always get what they want.”

 

“They? Aren’t you part of this weird skeleton cult?” He snaps and it irks that the phantom tilts it’s head back and laughs.

 

“They. We. Never really part of the group to begin with. I’m just issuing you a warning. Get out while you still can.”

 

He remains firm, voice growing stronger, steadier the more he uses it. “I am not scared of you.”

 

The ghost pauses and for a second, Lewis can see misery, a sadness that is deeper than any ocean, the kind of sadness that you drown yourself in and then it’s gone, a hollow husk as the skeleton rolls it’s eyes and shrugs it’s shoulders. “You should be.”

 

A scream, Arthur’s, echoes from the door and Lewis turns, fingers curled once more into fists.

He turns back to see the ghost still lingering there, the aching sadness returning to it’s form.

 

“You said you weren’t going to do anything!” He snapped, already moving up the staircase.

  
“I didn’t do shit.” It answered before disappearing, leaving only a temporary cloud of dark orange smoke.


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the dead guy struggles to stay alive and they meet their second antagonist and the first antagonist would just really like to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made another one of these  
> im a mess  
> i can feel myself spiraling.

iii. pa-pa-power

 

By the time both Lewis and Mystery had climbed the stairs, Lewis is seething - the flames tailing to his shoulders and a look of determination on them both is enough to kill the poor stranger that would dare catch a glimpse on them.

When Lewis slams the door, nearly ripping it off the handles in the process.

 

In the past, Lewis had been the bodyguard. In the idea that the body was split into four parts, Lewis represented the muscle, he was bulky, active and often the protector of the group. Where Arthur was the brain, Vivi the guts and Mystery the skin and / or heart - they managed to get along well, like a functioning body.

 

But as he watches the scene around him unfold, he can’t help but sink, feet touching the floor, flames disappearing from his coat-tail.

 

Whatever the spirit was, blue accented by morose eyes is quickly slammed by the file drawers. Vivi’s hands who once held a photograph smashes itself on the ghost’s head who wails as the glass shatters into the scene.

 

“Eat photograph!” Vivi snaps, hitting the frame against the ghost’s cheeks who almost immediately disappears, sinking into the ground before Arthur’s foot has made contact with the floor, stomping on the ground for good measure.

 

When they turn, Arthur hangs his head slightly and Vivi cheers up almost immediately at his presence.

 

Yet, there is an absence.

 

When Lewis died, he expected the world to die with him. Like his candle was snuffed out too early, he wanted the world to stop with him, almost expected it to. When he came back things had changed, he knew it. Vivi knew it. Arthur knew it most of all. But it was their combat, the ability to defend themselves without him - without even calling his name was a sign that had learned to live without him.

 

Another reminder that he really was dead.

 

Vivi passed him, patting him lightly on the shoulder with a soft smile before rubbing her hand on Mystery’s head, who bent his head to her touch.

 

Arthur followed suit, pausing only once to glare into open violet eyes. “Don’t worry pal. You’ll get the next one.” He pauses, almost raising a fist to punch him lightly in the shoulder before he drops before it touches him. Instead, Arthur shrugs and smiles softly before following Vivi down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

They camp outside the van -  Arthur with his back to the van, Vivi pacing in front of them with Mystery by her side and Lewis lounging on the van’s roof.

“Okay, judging from what we found in the office - I’m thinking this was a family owned business. Almost all the photographs have been vandalized and we did get attacked by a ghost. So I think we are on the right track. We just gather up some flashlights and see what’s going on. All n all, we don’t even know if it’s a real ghost.”

 

Lewis snorted. “I’m pretty sure it was real.”

 

“Well you never know. We’ve met plenty of freaks in really good masks.” Arthur shrugged, rolling his shoulders and giving a stifled yawn.

 

“Tomorrow then! We gather our flashlights and figure out what the problem is!” Vivi shouted, eyes shining brightly with the promise of adventure. For good measure, she throws her fist into the air, and the feeling of closure tightens around the group.

 

Still, Lewis feels the difference between them. Shortening little by little, step by step but even so, it still feels like miles between them all.

 

* * *

 

 

The orange skeleton floats through the floor, hardly disturbing the dust that had been settling for years.

 

The skeleton, who hasn’t gone by a name in many, many years, places their feet on the ground. They raised a hand, ran it through the hot flames that were produced shortly from their head.

 

There was a soft sobbing in the background and they sigh, already exasperated by the problem.

 

It doesn’t take long for the ghost to find the source, a sobbing blue ghost with gnarled fingers and a heart as blue as the ocean, cracked and faded. It’s voiceless, croaking and coughing. It points to a place on it’s head and the skeleton shakes it’s head.

 

“You are dead, for god’s sake. You can’t die again.” It snaps, and the ghost hisses - disappearing through the wall and then letting the sobbing echo through the building.

 

“You chased it away.”

 

The skeleton spins on it’s feet, and the hiss of embers escape from underneath black clothing. There is no sign of the so-called boss, the man with a soul as green as growing grass and a smile that still makes their skin crawl. But still, they can hear it's heavy breathing. 

 

“I don’t know why you let that thing wander around here. It’s just going to attract more.” It calls out into the darkness, folding it's arms over it's chest.

 

“I want it all. You know that.” The voice is a purr and it disrupts the skeleton, gross and dark - a man that is trying so desperately to be charming. “Why don’t you do something productive for once?” He purrs again and the voice leaves, leaving the orange skeleton hanging alone in the basement of the factory.

  
“Why don’t you bite me.” It hisses in the darkness, a poor comeback - delayed in reaction. Even so, the skeleton rises through the rafters once more, leaving the basement untouched by both the living and the dead. 


	4. iv.

iv. you will never see the light again

 

The following afternoon is perhaps even more anti-climactic than the first. The scare from the first ghoul had hardly shaken the group and they trekked onward - deeper into the factory. Although the scenery was dark and almost orifice in the abandoned factory was covered in rust.

 

“I feel like I need twenty tetanus shots.” Vivi scowled, placing her head into her hands. They broke for lunch after yet an uneventful exploration. Every now and then, Lewis was certain he had seen the bright orange eyes and the familiar chuckle of yesterday’s spectre but whenever his gaze tries to follow the sight, they disappear and he’s left wondering whether or not he even saw it.

 

There is a slight distinct sobbing but no matter how many tunnels they try to take, no matter how floors they take - they are unable to locate the ghost sobbing. It’s when Arthur is leaning up against the wall that he loses his footing and just about breaks his neck when the wall gives out - revealing a hidden tunnel.

 

“Oh Arthur! You are brilliant!” Vivi exclaims, practically leaping over Arthur to explore the hallway. “Now just wait Vivi!” He shouts, flying to his feet and chasing after her. Lewis rolls his eyes and starts to follow them when he pauses, hearing loud laughter.

 

“What - You won’t introduce me to your family?” The familiar chuckle drifted from above the rafters and the dead violet skeleton spins on his heels, fingers curled into fists.

 

“Oh.. Pumpkin. Did I make you angry?” It was a cool purr and he raised his head to find the ghost floating upside down so their skulls were nearly touching. Up close, he could notice the hair-line fractures on the skull, ash grey horns that barely protruded from the white marrow, but were there none the less.

 

When the ghoul pulled away with that warm chuckle, he lunged after it but it merely danced away from his grasp like it was a game.

 

“What the hell am I supposed to call you anyways?” Lewis asked, watching the figure drift around like it was piece of dust in the wind and the ghost shrugged.

 

“Don’t have a name.”

 

“What do you mean you don’t have a name?’

 

The orange spectre shrugged, a sense of sorrow sinking into the room. Lewis watched the ghost shift, almost trying to stifle it and he could tell for the ghost chuckled, more drawn almost in an effort to forget.

“You forget these things. First it’s the little things, like christmas presents and your favorite food. Your favorite color, the memories that you imagined would be photographed behind your eyelids forever. Then it’s family. You forget the name of your ma ‘n pa. Friends. Then you forget yourself. What you looked like, what you sounded like. Forget your name too. Then you start to make stuff up in an effort to hold onto the things that make you human.”

 

For a second. He sees it.

 

White marrow disappears for bronzed skin and blonde hair messily styled into a fake mohawk. There’s a tattoo on her arm, of a lion roaring with a text that’s barely legible. A girl, perhaps Vivi’s age - maybe younger, with freckles jumping on her nose. Dressed in a casual black vest with rolled up white sleeves, the image is gone and replaced with the orange ghost and the sadness had disappeared, replaced with anger. The human, the projection of perhaps what they really were is gone.

 

“Listen to me kid. Don’t bother. Just stay to being a demon. A beast. It’s worth it in the end.

 

“Don’t call me kid. Besides, I’m not going to listen to a single word you say.”

 

If the orange ghoul could sneer, it would and it scoffed.

 

“I’ll let you in a little secret. A little riddle.” The cruelty in her words is practically dripping off her tongue.

 

“What’s the difference between you and your friends?” She started to wiggle her finger and made a clicking sound as though a tongue were hitting her teeth (seeing as the ghost had neither teeth nor tongue, it was rather impressive.

 

“Don’t have an answer?” She asked and he merely shook his head, fingers curling back into fists.

 

“Alright, I’ll give you the answer. You are dead and they are alive.” Then she pulls back laughing as though it’s the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

 

“Yeah? So?”

 

“So.. what’s going to happen when they are buried thirty feet in the dirt and you are still here? Mhmm ? Never did think about _that_ did you? ” She hissed and when she moved to rest her hand on her shoulder, he didn’t even flinch.

 

“The only reason why you are still here is because when you died, you were filled with such an urge, such an emotion of hate that it was enough to give you strength. Do you really want to put your _precious_ friends through that?”

He felt a hole open in his stomach, starting to shake and he could feel the presence of the stone in his stomach once more.

 

He doesn’t even hear the ghost leave until Vivi is pulling at his shoulder, pulling him away from his train of thought.

  
“Lewis what’s wrong? Aren’t you going to follow us?” She asks and he nods, finding himself trying to smile and nods instead - following them into the darkened passageway - unable to shake the feeling of crater that’s forming in his stomach. 


	5. v.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (mentions of suicide and other deaths in this chapter. please be careful.)
> 
> hrmm, this is a long chapter. sorry, i guess it just got ahead of me. hehe. I hope everyone is enjoying the holiday so far. let it be noted that we are slowly, but surely, reaching the end of this fic. mhmm, tragic but true. i'm contemplating a sequel but i'm mostly on the fence. any ideas or comments would be very welcome!
> 
> (wild winds updates tomorrow!)

v. werewolf heart

 

The scene unfolds before the group and Arthur, lingering between the group’s members is chilled to the bone. He has the shakes and the sweats but it’s been overlooked by Lewis’ odd transformation. He doesn’t like the factory. The moment he went through the doors, no, perhaps even earlier. The moment they pulled into the parking lot - Arthur had started to shake.

 

Ever since Lewis’ death and even after his revival, Arthur had kept to himself - building and fixing machines because it was so much easier to read blueprints than it was to read people and he found it easier to fix broken cars and things than it was trying to stitch up people. He tried once, tried to make the blueprints of Lewis and Vivi and Mystery, as though they could be so easily defined on blue paper with white pencil but he struggled to capture the details of their build and persona that eventually he gave up, sliding the papers into a box with other ideas and dreams he had abandoned.

 

Vivi was better at the people thing, she and Lewis both. She would have noticed the pale sheen that had been collecting on his forehead or the occasional shiver that crawled down his spine. But she had been distracted by the crying that echoed through the factory and Lewis’ own weird behaviour who looked like he had seen a ghost, something wicked and that was what shook up Arthur the most. It was making him sick, and he clutched his iron hand to his stomach as though it were a shield.

 

There was something familiar in the air, something he could taste on his tongue and couldn’t place that it was enough to distract him, to stumble in his step and in the darkness of the factory, in the low light that Vivi’s key chain flashlight could give them - it was very easy for Arthur to lose his way.

 

In the factory passage ways, it was easy to lose themselves with false walls and the fact that Vivi nearly broke her back when an old barrel shot out of the wall like frightened ferret with a death wish. It was when Arthur triggered a small silver wire did he find a false wall appear between the group with a cloud of dust. He coughed and immediately shrieked when he was separated but even worse, he could hear Vivi screech from the other end and his hands slammed against the wall in desperation.

 

When nothing answered from the other side, he screamed and then slowly lowered his voice, goosebumps appearing on his skin and he found himself trying to swallow air, barely getting through to his lungs. “Vivi?” He tried, trying the name as he hoped and prayed.

 

“Nope. Guess again.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Vivi landed on the floor, she felt her ankles give out and she inhales sharply. The dust immediately sprang into the air and she coughed, inhaling dust. “Vivi are you alright?” When the dust finally settles, she can see the concerned violet eyes of Lewis and she immediately smiles. “Of course, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

When she gets to her feet, she tries her left ankle and almost immediately collapses, and is saved from hitting the floor a second time with the help of Lewis.

 

“Where are we?"

 

* * *

 

He nearly faints, in fact - he sees the sunspots in front of his eyes and the little shake in his jowls.

 

“Holy hell kid.” He feels limber arms underneath his shoulders and a slight jostle helps him fight off the coming darkness. When he surfaces, sick to his stomach - concerned orange eyes stare back at him. He shrieks at the sight of the cracked skull and perhaps more surprisingly, the skull screams back, dropping him like a Drowning Pools song and floating back, hands up.

 

He backs up against the wall and the back of his head connects with the wall and he starts seeing stars and constellations behind his eyelids. He briefly hears more muffled profanity and he finds himself lifted off the ground and more panicked, muffled swearing, some in a language that he’s heard before.

 

His voice cracks as the words fail to come off his tongue and he blinks, refocusing on image in front of him.

 

“Oh thank Lazarus you are alive. Christ, you scared the living death out of me.” It comes out a bit hoarse, similar to the tone of Lewis and he struggles and the spirit obliges - letting him drop to the floor and into the dust.

 

“Don’t touch me. I’ve got a match in my pocket and it’s strike anywhere so d-don’t even think about it.” He hoarsely protests, feeling around in his pocket and he watches as the spirit hovers closer before something pulls it back as it floats closer to the ceiling.

 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

The room is downright creepy. With photographs and candles and red yarn, red yarn the spirals over tables and chairs. Newspaper clippings that have turned yellow and delicate with age. They are scattered - almost haphazardly at first but soon, they can see there is a strange pattern, a story they are trying to tell. Lewis lets Vivi lean on his shoulder, hand tenderly around her waist as they hobble forward. Mystery growls softly, ears pinned to the back of his head and Vivi nods.

"Yeah, I don't like it either."

 

It's sinister almost, in it' strange scatter-brained way and for some reason, it's scarier than the orange spirit. Compared to this silent written working, the orange spirit is a docile cat, and he would gladly take the orange ghoul ten times over than this strange chart and the yarn that strings wildly across the room. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

“Hah. No. No, we are not talking.”

 

“Yes, yes we are. I tried talking to the dead fellow but he’s stubborn as Death herself and I’m really quite sick of it. So I’m trying you instead.”

 

“Lewis? You talked to Lewis?”

 

“You mean the purple dead guy? If that’s his name, then yes.”

 

For some reason, he’s not scared. Maybe because it’s cool. It’s relaxed, if not slightly melancholy and it oozes confidence in a similar manner to Lewis. Where once in his life he was scared of that kind of aura, he found himself safer in it’s shadow. Not to mention if it were actually out to get him it wouldn’t have tried to catch him twice.

 

He finds himself giving a snort, the pieces of laughter lingering briefly on his tongue.

 

“Kind of sounds like Lewis. He and Vivi can be quite stubborn.” Vivi most of all. She had the horns like a bull and once they got into something, she refused to let go. Lewis had a similar trait, in the fact that once he had an idea in his head, he refused to think around it.

 

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous.” For added measure, the ghost throws her hands up into the air and shrugs, kicking back and crossing her heels.

 

“So what, are you trying to tell me?”

 

“You need to leave. Now.”

* * *

 

He finds himself leaning forward, seeing himself only briefly in shattered mirror pieces that seemed to be taped to the board followed by a picture of a pretty boy with slicked back black hair, a cool distant look on his face. His skin has a slight tan and the newspaper is written in a language he doesn't understand. Written in bright red ink there is a word next to his picture, Vanagloria before it's scratched out and another picture appears, scribbled out.

 

There is a red string tying the picture and the broken mirror to a younger man, with an awfully ill-kept beard and beady little eyes. Another word beside the picture followed by a newspaper, but it's ripped up in what could have been anger and the word that was written next to the article is also scratched out, so badly that he can see the steel beneath and it makes him worry, makes him give a slight shake at the anger expressed at the photo. 

 

* * *

 

 

The words shake him and there is a desperate seriousness in her voice that hollows him out and he shakes his head. His voice cracks. “What do you mean?”

 

“This place is awful. The man that owns this place is even worse. If you continue to pursue this stupid mission then you are going to be way over your damn heads. I tried to shake up that phantom but he’s either brave or stupid and he won’t listen.”

 

She doesn't have to tell him twice, the message has hit home.

 

“Wait - how can I trust you?” It comes out and for a second he recoils, almost waiting for the spirit to explode as he detected their cover but instead, the ghost just sighs.

 

“You have to. I don’t see anyone else trying to help your sorry asses.” The spirit sighs and he can see the spirit move it’s hands as though it’s trying to physically grasp the words it wants to say. “I don’t want to be apart of this, I just am.” There is a stress on those words and carefully, cautiously - he presses onward.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I’m just tired. Tired all the time and working for this guy makes me feel.. powerful. Not alive, but something different. When I’m here, I don’t have to be afraid.”

 

The residential scaredy-cat scoffs. “What do you have to be afraid of ?”

 

“Myself.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This is creeping me out.” Lewis comments, placing a hand on the various newspapers. They are scattered, detailing a pattern he doesn’t understand - a puzzle that only seems to jar him further. The spirit’s words still roll around in his head, making him sick. There is more of the factory head’s pictures, showing a man from the late sixties, black and white. His hair slicked back, the smile on his face that seems to unease him further.

 

There is an article depicting the tragic death of a boy who drowned and his graduation stares back at Lewis, a boy in the early seventies.

Then, he sees it. The smallest newsclipping followed by another picture and a cd that hangs on the corkboard peg. He recognizes the spirit, the bronze skin and the lion tattoo that peeks out from underneath a black t-shirt. A red guitar can be seen from behind her back and her arms are looped around some men and her smile is alive and her eyes are surprisingly golden, an orange that reminds of him of the lion she had tattooed on her arm. Alive, she was alive once. The article is ripped up and the name of the spirit has been ripped away but the details of her tragic death stare before him. Thrown off a bridge in a supposed suicide, a horrible tragedy for a rising star and her band. He recognizes the lead singer, a boy with more of a grimace than a smile. It comes to him, the band who swept the charts with one hit wonders and rather sexist remarks before the lead singer met his own tragic death with a drug overdose and the band fell apart like a sandcastle underneath a tidal wave.

 

He wonders if he’s seen this photograph, of the girl she used to be with dreams and aspirations. If she had lived, would they have been so short-lived? Would it have been different?

 

Lewis lingers further, thinking of the spirit without a name, forgotten by media - forgotten by herself when he hears Vivi inhale sharply. “Holy shit.”

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur freezes again and finds himself sincerely hoping he doesn’t die but instead, there is a sense of intense sorrow, so deep that it kicks him in the stomach.

 

“When I’m not here, I’m not anywhere. I don’t remember being anywhere but here or somewhere else like I don’t exist in between. I’m stuck, I’m stuck in this stupid tragic limbo and I’m so fucking sick of just existing.” The sorrow turns into anger, a deep and heavy anger so thick it’s like fog and he notices the hair on her head starting to burn brighter, hands curling into fists. “I’m not alive and not dead, I’m just here. I’m just here without a fucking name or a story and the only reason why I work for this guy because he promised me a story, he promised me that he would help me with this. It’s like a song that I’ve got stuck in my head. I’ve got the lyrics in my head and the beat in my heart but the moment I try to get it across, the moment I try to sing it, I forget it and I’m getting sick and tired of forgetting my _own damn **SONG**_!” She howls, like a wolf caught in a trap and Arthur finds his back against the wall, trying to escape her wrath and he can see the deadly seriousness in her eyes and she pauses, outstretches a finger.

 

“I warned you kid. Don’t make me do it twice.” She hisses before she disappears in a cloud of dark orange smoke.

 

* * *

 

 

He turns and freezes too. His gaze matches Vivi’s to the spot in the wall.  It’s a collage of tragic deaths of youth, tragedy that struck students and young adults and in the core of cork board puzzle with it’s intertwining red yarn there is a newspaper article of him with the picture from his family’s employee of the month award. He smiles back at the viewer and he finds himself shaking. The lines intertwine him to the drowning boy and the factory owner and musician - caught up in a whirlwind of somebody else’s plan. He’s circled, question marks around his name. He sees words, a name he doesn’t recognize but it’s him. Caught up in someone else’s plan and it occurs to him, standing there in front of the detailed and elaborate college of young and tragic that it’s a trap.

 

He walked right into a trap.

 

Through the factory, a blue, faceless ghost weeps, an orange spirit tries to remember and a green ghoul starts to laugh, and laugh and laugh.


End file.
